


Reunion

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Twelve [15]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Covenant of Primus, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Covenant of Primus, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Reunions, Trope Bingo Round 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Returning home after the end of the war, Prowl is reunited with a friend he had every reason to believe was in the Well.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 12](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/tag/round+twelve). Prompt: Reunion
> 
> Because there is never enough Aligned/Covenant of Primus fix-it fic for these two.

The Autobot heavy cruiser _Vapour Trail_ , commanded by Prowl of Praxus, had been en route to Cybertron obeying their Prime's command to return home upon cessation of hostilities. The vessel had been passing through space that had once belonged to the former Cybertronian Empire when they had intercepted a distress signal from a ship of Neutral Cybertronians. The _Grace Under Pressure_ claimed to hold survivors from the former Autobot colony of Antilla. The Neutral vessel was suffering from severe systems malfunctions and required immediate assistance. Prowl had, of course, ordered his crew to divert course and intercept, intending to assist in repairs if possible or to bring the survivors aboard if not. If brought aboard the Neutrals would have to return to Cybertron whether they liked it or not: the _Vapour Trail_ could not expend the fuel to divert twice.

The _Grace Under Pressure_ was an old ship - unsurprising as it carried colony mecha and most of the colonies had not been heard from since the space-bridges were destroyed - and the systems were not in the best of repair. Bringing it back to working condition would take longer than Prowl could permit his ship to deviate from their projected timeline. Long years of war had taught the Autobots never to abandon potential resources. The Neutral vessel was taken into their cargo hold, and the crew and passengers went to the _Vapour Trail_ 's Medibay for examination and repairs before being released to quarters. First Aid, the _Vapour Trail's_ chief medic, reported that the Neutrals were mostly suffering from stress and prolonged under-fueling, with a scattering of mild injuries. His recommendation mainly was for them to get plenty of rest, along with mineral supplements and better quality fuel than they had been getting. He also suggested giving them a mega-cycle or so to adjust to their new surroundings before any questioning began or even before they were let mix with the crew of the Autobot ship. Prowl, deferring to First Aid's great empathy, agreed and held off introducing himself to the lead colonist until the doctor cleared it.

While the refugee Neutrals might need time to adjust, their ship was not sapient and could be approached immediately. While Prowl had never worked on spaceships, he had once, long ago, been an engineer, and he still retained an interest in the field. Curious about how a group of Neutrals had kept their ship running without access to their colony or Cybertron, he visited it once his shift was over.

The _Grace Under Pressure_ was just barely small enough to fit in the hold, and it should have been securely locked down, but the side hatch was open. Prowl contacted the _Vapour Trail_ 's computer and checked the location of all engineering and security personnel. None of them were anywhere near the cargo bay. According to the computer's internal sensor logs, only one mech had entered this cargo bay after the Neutral ship had been docked here. Confident he could handle a single mech, Prowl drew his firearm and approached cautiously. He made his way through the small vessel, listening intently for the location of the intruder.

He found them in engineering. Prowl heard them before he saw them, and there was something oddly familiar about the voice. He frowned and took up a stance in the entrance to engineering, weapon at the ready.

"This is Prowl, commanding the _Vapour Trail_. Identify yourself," he ordered.

There was a brief silence, and then the intruder called out, in a surprisingly happy voice for someone who'd just been caught, " _Prowl?_ Prowl of _Praxus?_ "

Prowl frowned, running the voice through analysis, trying to pull it from memory. "I repeat, identify yourself."

"It _is_ you!" There was a laugh of pure delight. "Prowl, it's _me_! Bluestreak!"

_Bluestreak_? That was a designation Prowl hadn't heard in Ages, quite literally. He lowered his weapon slowly.

"Bluestreak?" he asked out loud.

"Yes!" Prowl didn't recognize the mech who came around the engine and approached him. There was something familiar, though, in the smile. "Oh, it's been so long! I haven't heard your voice since I was telling you we were going to try and destroy the Rust Plague with fire, and you were trying to get me to come through the space bridge before it was shut down. I guess it has been a while and I know you and I know you've got to be suspicious, so – "

The mech sent him an ID ping, and it did match the one he still had on file for Bluestreak. Even those could be counterfeited, and Prowl was not willing to accept it as conclusive proof.

"I was infected before we could find a cure, though," the mech continued, "and so I had to have a partial rebuild but – Prowl, it's _me_!" The possible-Bluestreak tilted his head a little, and it was precisely the movement Prowl's memories showed his old friend making when he was thinking. "You want more proof, don't you? I thought you would. How about stuff I know about us that probably no one else would? When that one vendor you liked had to close down because their family was moving back to Polyhex, I learned how to make that whipped energon-thallium combination you liked that no one else carried. You helped me study for three mega-cycles straight for my advanced quantum mechanical framework exam because I had trouble with the reduced density matrices.

"Right now you're trying to work out if either of us ever told anyone about either of those things so you can verify my identity enough to justify asking your medical staff to confirm it by CNA. You also want to point out that it's unlikely the CNA of anyone declared dead during the Rust Plague would still be on file. I'm guessing you kept a copy of it in your memory banks just in case, though, because you never really wanted to believe I was dead."

The smile was so like Bluestreak's – he wouldn't let himself think 'exactly' yet – that Prowl ached to have it be true. Everything the other mech had said about the whipped energon, the studying, and Prowl keeping Bluestreak's CNA in memory certainly was. The probability of Bluestreak surviving the Rust Plague had been infinitesimal, but it had not been zero, and a CNA profile was not such a big thing to have carried with him all this time. The profile would still be valid even if Bluestreak had had a partial or even full rebuild: a spark would, with time, code its CNA profile into new parts, or even overwrite the CNA of replacements donated from another mech. A match would be the best verification Prowl could have.

"You are correct that I want my ship's physician to verify your identity," Prowl answered, not letting his voice give anything away. "You will accompany me to the Medibay."

"Of course I will," the alleged Bluestreak agreed.

First Aid was just coming up on the end of his duty shift when Prowl and his guest entered the Medibay.

"Oh, hello, Prowl, Bluestreak," the doctor greeted them, sounding just a touch surprised. "Is everything all right?"

"No one needs medical attention, First Aid," Prowl assured him. "I've come to request that you run a test for me. I need you to compare this mech's CNA to the CNA profile I'm sending you now," Prowl told him, transmitting the Ages-old file in a quick burst. He'd made sure to keep it in a readable format, resaving it as necessary over the millennia. "I'd like his identity verified as Bluestreak of Praxus as soon as possible."

First Aid looked between them, obviously confused by Prowl's request. "But he came back against the colony records as Bluestreak of Praxus already?"

"It's alright," Bluestreak told First Aid with a smile. "Prowl's just thorough. We knew each other on Cybertron, way before the war ever started. He's thought I was dead for a very, very long time and he wants to be sure I'm not someone impersonating an old friend."

"Oh!" First Aid's visor brightened in surprise. "Of course, I'll get this done right away!"

Prowl waited while First Aid took and sequenced a new sample – Prowl had insisted on a new one – and compared it to the profile Prowl had provided. Sitting next to him in First Aid's office, Bluestreak waited with a patience that would have surprised a lot of the mecha who had known him, once. Not Prowl. Prowl knew exactly how patient Bluestreak could be when he put his mind to it. More than once he'd seen the quick-speaking mech fall silent and intent on a problem, speaking and moving no more than was required to fix it.

Prowl waited with a patience that would have surprised no one, running calculations and tactical simulations on his HUD to pass the time. Still, he was not so distracted he didn't pause them immediately when First Aid came back.

"Alright, Prowl," First Aid said, handing Prowl a tablet with the results displayed on it, "I've completed the analysis, and as you can see, the CNA from the file you gave me matches the CNA from Bluestreak's sample. He is Bluestreak of Praxus, there's no doubt about it."

Even though Prowl knew First Aid would only tell him the truth, he still read through the report to verify it for himself. He was not a geneticist, but he could make sense out of enough of it to see that yes, this Bluestreak was his Bluestreak. His vocalizer locked up with emotion. He didn't know what to say or do – but Bluestreak would. Bluestreak always had.

Wordlessly, Prowl handed the tablet back to First Aid and turned to the mech sitting next to him. Bluestreak was smiling warmly at him.

"So, can I get a hug now?" Bluestreak asked, optics bright. "I missed you, Prowl."

Prowl nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. His voice didn't come back till he was helm-to-cheek with Bluestreak, his long-lost friend's arms tight around him.

"I've missed you, too, Bluestreak. Welcome back."


End file.
